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What would you do if you had planned an elaborate dinner and the guest of honor failed to show up? It happened just the other day. I got up early, real early, o.k. ridiculously early, say before 3 a.m., just to make a special trip to pick up said guest of honor. I drove a couple of hours in the dark, first on pavement, then on several miles of bumpy, pothole infested "road". Then, it was boot sole time. Down one hill and up another, to our appointed meeting place. Did I mention that it was steep? Along the way, I slipped, fell, and bruised my…."ego". Square edged rocks leave peculiar, persistent marks on ones butt. My "ego" is still sore.

I had even offered to make it easy. I offered to carry said guest all the way back to the vehicle. On my back. But he failed to show. Bastard.

Maybe he didn't like wild turkey picatta. Or a nice white sauce that included morels and fresh chives. Perhaps it was the wild rice? Surely it couldn't have be…

This falls under the category of "Blast from the past". Not fishing or outdoors related.

We drove out to Willow Creek last evening for dinner at the Willow Creek Cafe and Saloon. It was the belated celebration of a life (Pop passed away before Christmas). We polished off orders of what we concluded were the best baby back ribs that we've had, followed by a decadent dessert that we didn't need. We discussed roots, family, health and healthy habits, among other topics. This, while eating ourselves into a stupor. I think that we ensured the financial security of the local cardiology group.

The discussion eventually turned to the topic of music. Bands, favorites. Our limited consensus for greatest album of all time….Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd.

At last we've entered the days of seasonal tease. Spring, with all it's daily vagaries. One day stunningly beautiful, sixty degrees, warm to the face. The next elicits a response of…"Are you kidding?" Snow, blow, temperatures plummeting into the teens. Yes, spring in Montana. Wonderful.

The last stretch off from work was fruitful from the standpoint of getting out and poking around. I went five for seven as regards days fished to days off. Not a bad average for someone swinging a bat or wielding a fly rod.
The pontoon emerged from it's bag in the garage and made it's maiden voyage of the year. I was relieved to find that it still held air and had not acquired any new leaks. An overcast day, punctuated with the occasional squall, made for pleasant floating conditions. Midges? Yes! Gobs. Clusters. Truly something to behold. Trout enthusiastically sipped the floating masses of bugs. A short cast to a recent rise with a midge pupa was often rewar…